I sat frozen on the hallway floor, listening to a man break apart in the silence I'd helped create, and wondered if asking to help save Elena's legacy had been kindness or the cruelest thing I could have done.
9.Anna
Today was excruciating.
I'd spent twelve hours waiting for an answer I wasn't sure I wanted. Every time Daisy looked at me with those hopeful eyes, I felt the weight of my promise to ask. Every time I heard Jack's office door, my stomach clenched. But he never emerged. Just stayed locked in there, silent and unreachable.
As six o'clock approached, I began packing up Daisy's toys, the routine a comforting anchor. I was about to slip out the service entrance when I noticed a sliver of light under Jack's office door.
Curiosity pulled me toward it. The door was slightly ajar. I peeked in.
He was at his desk, but the sleek command center was gone. It was buried under a sea of paper. I could see spreadsheets, colorful flyers advertising story time sessions, and budget reports highlighted in yellow.Grant applications with 'URGENT - Due Friday' scrawled across the top.
He'd been researching. Trying to understand her world.
He had his head in his hands, fingers pushing through his dark hair, the silver at his temples stark under the lamplight. He looked utterly defeated.
I must have made a sound because his head snapped up. His eyes were shadowed with exhaustion, the gray depths stormy. For a second, I saw something flicker across his face—embarrassment, maybe. Being caught like this, overwhelmed and human.
He straightened slightly, reaching to close one of the folders. Trying to regain his armor.
"I was just leaving," I said quickly, taking a step back.
Before he could respond, a small, sleepy figure appeared behind me, rubbing her eyes with one fist. Daisy, in her unicorn pajamas, with a trailing Mr. Bounces held by one ear.
She must have woken up and come looking for us.
She bypassed me completely and padded into the office. She went straight to Jack's chair and tugged on his sleeve.
He looked down at her, his expression softening from weary frustration to gentle concern. "What is it, bug?"
She didn't speak. She just raised her arms in the universal signal. He hesitated for only a second before lifting her onto his lap. She settled against his chest, herhead finding the crook of his neck. Then, she looked over at me and made a small, beckoning gesture with her hand.
My eyes flew to Jack's. He gave a tired, almost imperceptible shrug, as if to say,Don't ask me, I'm just following orders.
Daisy pointed firmly toward the hallway, then at Jack, then at me. The message was clear:Both of you. Take me back to bed.
We walked in a silent procession to Daisy's room. Jack first, carrying Daisy. I was following a few steps behind, hyperaware of the informal intimacy of this moment, the three of us moving through the darkened penthouse like a family.
Like we belonged together.
The thought made my chest ache.
Jack laid her in bed while I turned on the small nightlight shaped like a crescent moon. Daisy immediately reached out, not for one of us, but for both. She took Jack's hand with her right, and mine with her left, and pulled until we were both sitting on the edge of her bed.
I was aware of Jack beside me. The heat of his body. The way our shoulders almost touched. The matching weight of Daisy's small hands in each of ours, linking us like a chain.
"Story," she whispered, her eyes already drifting shut.
Jack looked at me, a question in his eyes. I nodded. I picked up The Velveteen Rabbit from hernightstand. I began to read, my voice low and steady. Jack didn't pull his hand away from Daisy's. He sat there, a warm presence, listening. Daisy's grip on our hands slowly loosened as she fell asleep, but she didn't let go.
When her breathing was deep and even, we carefully extracted our hands. We crept out, leaving the door ajar, and drifted back into the living room. The earlier tension was gone, replaced by a strange, shared quiet.
He walked to the window, his hands in his pockets. For a long moment, he said nothing, just stared out at the city lights. I could see his reflection in the glass, his breath fogging it as he was sinking deep in thought, like he was forcing something out.
"I've decided to push the closing date," he finally said, his voice quiet. "Six weeks. A trial period."
My heart gave a hard thump against my ribs. I stayed silent, waiting.
